Around Oz the First Time - Chapter 23 - Darwin Day 2 - the fishing charter

For 60% of the tourists, today was fishing day, for the other 40% (the women folk) it was a designated shopping day.

Firstly the shopping, Robyn and Rosalie headed out at 11.00am after sleep-ins. Headed to the city, again even after yesterday and preceding tonight’s festivities. On the prowl for mango smoothies – located, purchased and consumed with glee at luncheon. Further investigation of the historical sites of Darwin investigated, parliament house explored, uncovered the site of the first bomb exploding on Australian soil in World War II.

On the way home, we decided the mall required further investigation and gave it a good couple of hours. Robyn picked up 2 pairs of shoes which if she had bought them on a different day may have cost $120 ($60 per pair) but the bargain hunter she ended up with them for $45 all up. Rosalie bought eggs, really made the boys pay for their day out these two ?.

The 60% were all alarm awoken, myself at 5.15am. It’s dark and I fumble around trying not to turn on unnecessary lights to disturb Robyn further than she already is, see she set her phone alarm as well as me doing mine and they both go off in tandem. Showered and a quick breakfast I joined the other great white hunters to walk to the road for pick up by the charter boat operator. Peter has been recommended by a friend of Silver Leader’s. This “friend”, also a charter operator had the audacity to suggest he had another much larger “live in” charter, rather than take his mate and the remaining tourists on a fishing trip (which we were of course willing to pay the going rate for). Friends – who would have them.

As luck would have it, this friend has a mate – Peter – who he recommends to take us. It is Peter who picks us up at 6.00am at the front of the caravan park and we head off into the darkness towards the launching site for his boat – a ramp at Leeder Creek. Along the way we are slowed by patches of thick fog and close to the ramp by a dirt road. Like the road into Gunlom Falls its not bad and slows us only minimally.

We drive to a locked gate adjacent to the boat ramp and Peter turns off the lights. The owner of the property who Peter has his boat under lock and Key will open the gate momentarily. With the gate open we pack the boat and climb in, but not before we enquire of the owner if he has some spare crab net ropes. Although I have brand new nets and bait (chicken necks purchased yesterday afternoon) I have not gotten anything to “secure” them in the water, a miscommunication between me and Silver Leader. No worries there are ropes and floats a plenty and we are ready. No one will be getting wet during the launch for fear of the crocodiles, not even Peter. The owner of the compound back Peter’s can and boat into the water and bidding him farewell, we are off.

It’s still a little before sunrise and the air is quite cold especially as we motor through the fog. Rounding the odd corner with the fog gone the sunrise presents itself in all its glory and I snap picture after picture. Peter decides we should deploy the traps in two creeks that feed into the Leeder Creek and we can retrieve them on the way home. Sounds like a good plan to us. I bait them using all the chicken necks and Peter deploys them. Then it’s off to catch fish.

The wet season is by far the best time in the tropics to catch fish and we are here towards the end of the dry season, Peter says it’s going to be tough but we should catch fish. His last charter earlier in the week managed a couple of barramundi so we are hopeful. The first spot is a long bank which we troll without any luck at all. The second yields no more. Peter decides barramundi might be better chased later in the tidal flow and we head out for some blue water action.

Along the way we see what can only be termed an absolute monster of a crocodile, free swimming in the ocean. He has to be 5 metres if he is an inch, we all squirm a little and Peter does nowhere near the monster. The crocodile is a reminder of the dangers of these waters, so plentiful with delicacies but also dangerous.

We settle on some reef and begin to throw lures. There is expectation of various species, anything will be OK after the slow start. Silver and Forbsy both catch Spanish Flags, undersize but a start and I nail a very small Parrot Fish. Another drift and another hole and all hell breaks loose. First I catch a “barra” – a barracouta about 1.5 metres which returns to the deep with the lure still in lots of teeth infested mouth. Then a small school of trevally liven up proceedings. Everyone catches one until Forbsy gets into a slightly larger one, and is fighting it, and by all standards “winning”, when within a metre of the boat a giant cod comes from the depths, inhales the trevally and the lure and the fight changes significantly. What was a “fair” fight now becomes decidedly the advantage of the water based adversary.

Straight to the reef goes the cod. Forbsy is hanging on and fighting to get it’s head up for dear life. Result, Cod in the reef, under a rock and protected and Forbsy left to try a number of ideas to get the cod to relinquish its haven, none of which work and Forbsy is forced to break the line. An admirable fight in shallow water where the odds were firmly in favour of the prey.

Moving on Peter takes us to another hole in the reef system. Unfortunately, this spot allows my phone some reception and I receive a large number of messages which I ignore. These holes are large in number and deep allowing all sorts of species to congregate. All of a sudden Forbsy is on again, this time a juvenile Giant Trevally. The fight is all consuming, everyone reels in to allow Forbsy to run the fish around the boat before it is netted. The fish returned to the deeps, Forbsy recasts and is on again, surely it cannot be the same fish. All of a sudden it jumps, it’s a Queen Fish and again everyone else reels in to allow for the fight which again takes Forbsy all around the boat. As the Queenie gets closer to the boat we notice others of the same species swimming with it. I try to get my lure back in the water but it floats rather than sinks making working it difficult.

Forbsy finally lands the Queenie, pictures are taken and the fish returned to the depths. At this point the fish still recovering is joined by a 2 metre shark and a sea eagle circling, such is the circle of life.

From then on, we caught very little. The wind came up and we punched back through it to the opening of the creek. The sea was not particularly rough other than the wind chop and I enjoyed rocking to the bounce of the boat with only the occasional bone cracker as a wave lost its shape. There we trolled the bottom of the tide along a mudflat with Jabiru and crocodiles sunning themselves on the edge. As the tide runs out mudskippers can be seen flaying in the mud. Silver Leader suggests to Peter the birds must have a feast on them. Peter lets him know the birds will not touch them.

Up and back a number of times on the troll and nothing. Several other boats motor out of the creek to join us and they appear to have the same result. Time for lunch. Peter has arranged a large salad tray for everyone, and we find a spot out of the wind and devour them. Lunch is short and then it’s back to trolling. Forbsy lets out his line to begin trolling and is immediately set upon by a “barra” of the targeted species kind. Unfortunately, he has no tension on the line and the first he knows about it is the fish jumping and spitting the lure. This is to become our only encounter with the elusive species all day.

As we drift back to the boat ramp we are set upon by the local constabulary. They are eager to know when Peter is taking his mother ship out for location for the overnight tours. The police want to go with him to allow them to get hours underway for their proficiency certificates towards their licences.

Back at the boat ramp, again no one gets wet. Silver Leader assists Peter by driving the vehicle and trailer onto the ramp for boat retrieval. I buy everyone Cornetto’s to ensure I have the correct change to pay Peter for the day but he discounts the fare because of the outcome. We drive back to the van park reminiscing about the day and eager to get to the “cement pond” and cool down before packing the fishing gear away until the next time.

I try and put my head down from a nap  but cannot do it, even though the day was relatively fruitless the adrenaline pumped and the residue, even with only 4 – 5 hours sleep keeps me hyped up. We have a city dinner planned and we need to be ready at 7.00pm for the drive in.

Being a bit flat after a big day out the Mexican night at the Hot Tamale is a bit tough. The food was plentiful, the Mojito refreshing but I just can’t get into conversation of the evening. Robyn drives and has “fun” parking the Cruiser especially as the only spot left (the outdoor cinema is on adjacent) the vehicle behind has parked over the line showing their spot, and Robyn is just not adept enough (yet) at manoeuvring such a large vehicle into small spaces.

On the way home Rosalie comments on how this is such a late night for us tourists, and indeed it is. When we arrive home its 10.30, and given we had a 5.00am start, well some of us did, its been an extra long day. Tomorrow again we are touring. I managed to book the Cruiser in for a service and that needs to be at the yard just after 8.00am. The Team are taking advantage of the early start to do a large driving tour to the south tomorrow.